The afternoon sun was shining bright in the sky, casting warm rays that made Saphira's scales glitter with a pleasant hue of azure deep blue. Even if there were no clouds on the sky, giving it an uniform blue appearance as dull as the plains that unfolded below, the low temperature acted against Eragon and the others, making him shiver uncontrollably while Arya sought solace in her makeshift support.
Her arms were gently wrapped around his torso, and ever since Saphira ascended to this altitude, she involuntarily moved closer and closer to him, lessening the distance between them until it was no more. She was like a moth attracted to light, only that this time, it was his warmth that brought her so uncomfortably close to him.
Eragon's face was red like a ripe apple, and every time he shyly glanced with the corner of his eyes at the majestic arms wrapped around him, he was reminded of her proximity.
If only Saphira could descend a little… he thought, feeling an unnatural urge to hug himself, or anything that might make the cold disappear. But that was not possible, and the choice had already been made. The strain, in addition to the burden she was carrying sapped the energy out of Saphira, but the dragoness refused to rest. In order to lessen her exhausting plight, Eragon recommended her to soar high in the sky, where the air currents were beneficial for her and a vivid annoyance for him.
Eragon, you're shivering like a leaf, Arya suddenly entered his mind, making him start and release the saddle support he was holding. At the same time, Saphira flapped her wings and pushed forward, causing Eragon's body to slide into Arya, who almost lost balance herself were it not for her contracted thigh muscles holding steadily.
"I-I'm fine", he said, glancing uncertainly at Arya. Because of his recent maneuver, her head rested on his shoulder, her cool face touching his hot, cherry colored cheek. It was like a spring of pure water rushing through a fiery blaze, drenching its confidence incinerating flames with a wave of reassurance.
I've been through this before, Eragon said, doing it mentally this time to prevent his words from being lost into the wind.
Are you sure? Arya said and retracted her head slightly, reducing the powerful and fascinating smell of pine needles to a dull trace. I thought Riders are accustomed to flying, no matter the conditions.
You are confusing me with a dragon, Eragon remarked, failing to pick the hint of irony in her voice. Arya, who seemed lighthearted and open just a moment ago immediately reacted to his reaction and drew back, easing her grip and allowing cold wind to whistle through the gap created by the schism of their upper bodies.
Is that why you have eaten that rabbit?
I just…I didn't… Eragon stuttered. Why he pounced on the rabbit like a starving, mindless beast was a mystery to him too, and he could only blame the hunger for it. However, Arya was hungry too, and she held her composure, her strength of will never dwindling.
Is it a blunder to be what you are? Eragon finally snapped, raising his voice a little. I don't possess a strong self-control like you, nor is it in my nature to ignore an opportunity when it arises. My appearance may have changed, but my core has yet to polish. Eragon paused, and Arya said nothing. With tender moves, she put a silken palm on his shoulder, proving that his words were not alien to her.
I tried, he said softly. I'm still trying to understand my position in this world, but if everything is built upon sacrifices, can I be certain I made the right choice?
Not you, nor Saphira or the Varden, not even a creature of the forest will fall victim to this vicious cycle. It's this malevolent chain that breeds enmity and hatred, which in turn lead to revenge. Eragon's mind drifted towards Galbatorix, with his ominous face and cold, emerald eyes that oozed more than simple hatred. The possible sacrifice of his dragon, the refusal of sacrificing a dragon egg for Galbatorix's irrational request. One single element, as small and insignificant as it appeared to the rest of the world, was enough to provide momentum to what would later be known as The Fall.
I like you for what you can be, Eragon, Arya said, moving her hand from his shoulder across his abs and settle in an embrace. Not for what you are trying to be.
Arya, how can you be sure…
Listen, she interrupted, her warm, soothing voice compelling him to do as she said. Saphira was now flying at a lower altitude, where the wind was more forgiving. Constantly, it whistled past his ears, the sound almost melodic, with its own life fueled by the rhythm that described its free, wild nature.
The wind does not follow a pattern, even if it sometimes tricks you into thinking it does. The grace of it, its caressing feeling, its wild nature, they all take shape because of its nature. The wind blows freely, and its unplanned nature is what makes it beautiful.
If it would stop whistling, or ravage the world with its relentless gusts, would it still be beautiful?
No, Eragon said, a bit puzzled by the connection Arya made. But the wind is not burdened by what rests on my shoulders. It's connection with the world is far deeper than our own, for it is a part of the rules that govern the land.
Yet it never seeks for the absolute, or aim to achieve a perfect rhythm. It is content with its random nature.
I'm not trying to be perfect, Eragon said. I know that is not possible.
Nevertheless, you are still trying, Arya remarked. You didn't eat meat, even if it came from an already dead being, and that incertitude affected you.
Eragon was at a loss of words. Calm and warm as a river in the summer, Arya's voice flowed through his mind, washing away the filth produced by a mind too young and burdened. He still didn't fully comprehend the meaning of her words, but the feelings that stemmed from it made his skin bristle and his breath increase in rate. His body felt unusually warm and he wished to escape this feeling, were it not so pleasantly confusing.
We can rediscover ourselves by learning from nature, Arya said, sliding closer to his back until the distance between them was no more, and she leaned her light head on his shoulder. It never tries to be perfect, yet necessity, combined with the force that breaths life into everything is exactly what makes it sublime.
Eragon felt himself sinking in a state of peace, where everything was quiet and enjoyable, where concerns and worries vanished like vapors of warm air. This exhilarating feeling slowly recharged his depleted strength and mended wounds that had yet to close, giving him the power to fight anything that might threaten to obliterate it.
Lost among unknown feelings and pleasant thoughts, Eragon barely noticed that Saphira was looking at him. In order to get his attention, she had to growl, even if she could just enter his mind.
I cannot keep on much longer. We will land at the fringe of that thick forest in the distance.
Saphira leaned her body to the right, allowing the wind to carry her towards the forest she mentioned. Unlike Eragon, whose attention was diverted sideways because of outer interference, Angela's keen eyes spotted the forest right away, and such occasion was too much of an achievement to miss. Moments before they landed, Angela began to brag about how she and Solembum were the first to sense the forest and it's because of them that everyone would enjoy a moment of rest, and if possible, even a meal.
As always, Angela jumped from Saphira's back and lurched heavily when she hit the ground, threatening to fall before she regained her footing and dashed happily towards the forest, Solembum padding besides her. Arya's pleasant and light embrace faltered as she too climbed down from the saddle. She briefly informed Eragon that a walk to remove the stiffness from their limbs would be beneficial in a manner that allowed a subtle invitation for him, but before he could answer, Saphira interfered by nuzzling his arm affectionately, snorting warm gusts of air.
Little one, curl beside me, she said, unfolding her inviting wing. Eragon glanced at Arya uncertainly and when she made no reaction, he lay down, leaning against Saphira's ribs.
"I will gather something to eat too," she said briefly and left. Eragon, still unsuspecting what was about to come, or the unusual nature of Saphira's sudden interference, patted her scales lovingly and allowed pride and love to flow across their link. In response, Saphira growled softly and nuzzled Eragon in a more affectionate way than usual.
What's happening to her? Eragon thought, perplexed by how Saphira kept pushing his body near her belly protectively, nuzzling and growling strangely.
She is starting to open herself to you. I have seen it, Saphira said.
Eragon was taken aback by her observation, but he didn't fret too much. She's my friend. I won't let her bear the burden of loneliness, not after everything she has lost due to this war, he said with conviction.
Saphira shifted her body, bringing her hind paws under her belly. Slowly, she raised her long elegant neck and placed her chin on top of her front feet, exhaling loudly.
Every being despises loneliness and seeks the company of its kin, be it for even one blissful moment. If this terrible feeling cannot be combated, if a being can not reproduce and complete its part in the life cycle, can one know it ever lived?
Eragon was shocked, his eyes bulged and face pale. Her words impaled him, his previous mirth leaking out from his tattered being in discontinuous waves. More antagonizing, however, were her feelings of deep loneliness, sadness and hopelessness that flowed across their bond, unrestrained by Eragon's previous share of positive emotions.
Noticing that something was wrong, Saphira glanced at Eragon briefly and growled fiercely, fluttering her wings once before she settled on her position. The depressing and painful flow of her suffering came to an end, but Eragon could still not recover from his shock. He simply lay there, hugging himself, shivering slightly.
Sa-Saphira, he tried to break through his numbness. You are…not alone. Never.
Little one, she said with saddened yet caring voice. I couldn't control myself. This burden is not yours to bear. She craned her neck and pushed her snout into his body, growling strangely and brushing her soft, sensitive scales against his chest and face.
You are not alone, Eragon said, hugging her snout. You will always have me.
Saphira withdrew her head and looked at him with saddened sapphire eyes. I cherish the bond between us more than anything, but there are things even you cannot provide.
Eragon frowned slightly, but said nothing. He was hurt. Hurt because of the suffering of his partner of mind and soul. While Eragon was capable of sympathizing with her more than anyone, he dreaded the thought of being alone in the world, without a mate by his side.
You can never fly besides me and test our flight skills. We can never play the brutal, fighting sharpening battles of dragons because your body is fragile and weak.
Saphira curled her tail, pushing Eragon slightly in a warm embrace as she closed in her head to watch him in the eyes.
Most important, Eragon, is that we cannot mate. You cannot give me hatchlings, no matter how strong our love is.
A growl of distress escaped her, the mournful sound bringing a tear in Eragon's eyes, despite the shock suffered because of Saphira's words. He never quite comprehended the reality of her situation, and now, it hit him harder than Galbatorix's sword thrust. Yet even so, their possibilities were tied up. As much as he hated to admit it, Eragon summoned his courage and stared into Saphira's eyes.
You will have a mate. After Galbatorix is gone, so shall your loneliness die.
I do not like the ending, but I had to choose between keeping Saphira as her usual self and make her OOC and a bit more to my liking. Hope I did it right, because if not, I will edit it tomorrow. So, we have a little ExA and some important talk between Eragon and Saphira, which is also a bit short. Maybe the next chapter will continue it, but I'll see. For now, I think the essential has been passed on and we're ready to see what's up with Roran and the bonus chapter.